The Dragonborn and her King
by TheWittyOne96
Summary: The past can never truly be forgotten. And an old flame can never be smothered. On the day of High king Ulfric Stormcloak's wedding, he is forced to relive the memories of an easier life, one that involved the Dragonborn. (Rated M to be safe.)


On the break of day of the 17th Hearthfire, 4E 202, a cloaked figure rode non-stop through harrowing winds and intense snow to the north of the kingdom of Skyrim, cutting through thick forests and rocky earth to reduce travel time ; placing herself into more danger than necessary, but the woman did not care.

Her mare, though tired, pushed on as though sensing her mistresses distress.

On that same morn, in the city of Windhelm in the hold of Eastmarch, A High King jolted awake from a night-terror. After frantically gazing around him, he let his head fall back unto the soft pillow with a small huff, cursing Vaermina's name to the void as he did so.

He turned his head slightly after a few minutes to gaze out one of the many windows in his chamber. The sky was overcast, as per usual, but the hint of pale pink that ran along the tip of the sky told him that it was early. Very early.

The King sighed. He had been waiting for this day as one would wait for death; with anger, sadness, apprehension, and though he'd never admit to it, fear.

Today was the day. The day High King Ulfric Stormcloak married a woman he didn't love.

He heaved himself reluctantly out of his warm bed, wanting nothing more than to stay there and miss today events. It wasn't two minutes later when he heard a knock upon the door.

"Enter." He called not bothering to turn from the window. The door creaked open and he couldn't help but groan inwardly when the voice of his tailor greeted him.

"Sire, we must start to prepare you for the ceremony, a servant is drawing you a bath as we speak, after that we have a very tight schedule to keep to-"

The man hadn't even the time to finish when the king pushed past him and trailed slowly down the hall to his bathing quarters. As he entered, the servant startled but quickly recovered and bowed her head.

"Your majesty, forgive me, I didn't hear you-"

"It is fine. You are dismissed, I will tend to my own bath." The king saw the woman bite her lip.

"Sire.." she stuttered, "I-it is my job to get you prepared as quickly as-"

"You are dismissed." He said, his voice firm and echoing in the steam filled room. The woman blinked several times, bowed and quickly retreated from the room.

Ulfric let out a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding. He climbed into the huge bathtub when he felt the water was hot enough. It was hotter than usual, almost scorching his skin, but he felt he needed something else to focus on.

He washed himself vigorously, quickly getting into a rhythm. This helped him forget. Forget about his responsibilities, his 'fiancée' and more specifically **her.**

His rough and frantic scrubbing slowed slightly as he did the forbidden, and thought of her.

The strong woman who had brought him his throne; the brave woman, who fought beside his generals, making her way to the top... The beautiful woman, who had completely captured his soul...

He shook his head, as if to rid these dangerous thoughts from his brain. He had to stop. They could NEVER be. She was nothing but a danger to his throne and she would never be accepted by his people; his armies would rise against him and call him a liar, and a hypocrite. And Ulfric Stormcloak was neither of these things.

She would remain only a memory, a once in a life time event in his now dull and linear days. That would have to do.

About a half an hour or so later, there came a knock upon the door and a shout.

"Your majesty, we need to start getting you ready, your robes need to be checked and fitted."

Ulfric heaved himself out of the bath with an irritated exhale. He really couldn't escape the fact that this was his wedding day whether he liked it or not.

He wrapped a white cotton gown around himself to ward off the cold that was starting to make him shiver.

He left the room and walked slowly down to his chambers, dragging his feet in order to go even slower and delay the inevitable. When he pushed open the door, the first thing he saw was a royal blue and silver robe lying upon his bed.

He stood a moment and just stared at it. Tradition would have it that kings would wed in purple and golden robes... but those were the days of the Empire, and they no longer had rein in Skyrim. Ulfric had every right to make his own traditions, starting with this. The robe was a dark blue, almost navy. Fur trimmed the top around the neck connected to the robe by little silver chains.

The gown under the robe was silver, with patterns of the dragons tongue sewn on it. His heart gave a sudden jolt at the letters. They reminded him of many days spent with ... her. Learning and watching as she did such marvellous things with powers so inhuman. Throwing men and creatures back, setting her surroundings on fire, even bringing a dragon to the earth with only three words.

That was the unimaginable power of the Dragonborn. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. His tailor glanced up in passing from sorting out what seemed to be footwear with a servant and a beaming, practiced smile took over his face. He stood up straight and came over to him

"Your Majesty, we simply must get you dressed immediately, it would seem Lady Shatter-Shield is already slipping into her gown."

Ulfric tried not to groan at the sound of his fiancées name. Nilsine Shatter-Shield. The only woman of any stator left in Windhelm. When it came down to it, she was only one he could marry that he was sure would always be loyal to the stormcloaks; obey him without a hesitation and never even dream about an affair with a younger, better looking man that offered himself to her.

With her, he wouldn't have to worry, never have to care. Nilsine was a wife with a safety net... but with the dragonborn.. he wasn't so sure about anything. She would never fully obey him; always finding ways to go around his orders, never would she be completely loyal, her heart still belonged to her people. And she would never lie down and let him walk all over her. That danger of the unknown attracted him to her like a moth to a flame. She was a closed book, never one to portray her anger or sadness unless continuously provoked.

"...Sire?" A distant voice called. Ulfric quickly snapped out of his daydream, and looked at the shorter Breton with a great dislike.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to get me into that Talos forsaken gown!" He bit out. The tailor stuttered and apologised, quickly rounding up two servants and started to fit him into his gown. Every article was soft and silky, even the underwear.

He hated it with a passion. It was too soft and too irritating for his liking. He preferred the rough feel of iron or steel armour against his skin to the soft comforting material. In armour, he felt more at home, but he had been advised, for his future wife's sake (which he didn't really give a damn about) and appearances to the rest of the kingdom, to wear a beautiful robe, to show how majestic he was and how he truly looked the part of a perfect high king.

That point really talked him into it, he needed the people to be truly on his side, especially in the coming months, and with the constant threat of the Aldmeri Dominion hanging over Skyrim, he needed to be able to count on them to fight with him, and not against him.

He barely noticed the robe being draped over his shoulders until he heard the tailor clap his hands together.

"That's it. Might I say, the bear of Windhelm stitching on the back of your cloak is a nice touch, sire. It really is an outfit fit for a king!"

Ulfric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he'd compliment the outfit, he made it. Instead he turned to a full length mirror which had been set up in his chambers for this very purpose.

He really did look like a king. The robe fell to below his knees where fur boots covered the rest of his legs and feet. The only thing missing was his crown, but that wouldn't appear until after the ceremony, when the people would finally see their crowned king and queen together.

"How long until the service?" He asked in a tired voice. He saw the servants exchange a quick confused glance until a young girl answered.

"Less than an hour I should say, sire."

He nods at her and turns back to his reflection. There is a moment of silence before the tailor speaks.

"I believe his majesty wishes to be alone at this moment.. we will come for you when it is time to go, if you so desire."

"Of course." He answers gruffly, "Now, leave me."

There is shuffle of shoes along the ground signalling the tailor and servants departure.

When the door closes behind them, Ulfric collapses onto his bed in an undignified manner.

He wanted to get out of this. The idea of marrying Nilsine made him sick to his stomach. He did not love this woman, and probably never would.

But the kingdom needed stability; after many months of civil war, he knew his people needed hope, for a better and more peaceful future.

Which meant he needed to marry.. and he needed.. an heir.

~000~

As promised, a servant came for the king when it was time to go. The service would take place on the steps outside the Palace of the Kings, as did his fathers and his fathers before him. This was one tradition Ulfric wanted to keep.

He stood outside the huge doors of the Palace, next to the Priest of the Temple of Mara, who would be conducting the ceremony.

Nobility sat in chairs on either side of the courtyard, having gathered from across Skyrim to attend, and leaving only an aisle down the middle for the bride and her father to walk up.

The wind was bitter and cold, reflecting his mood perfectly. All at once the chatter from the crowd ceased, and the hired musicians began to play.

Ulfric closed his eyes, pained. 'Maybe.. just maybe..' He said to himself, 'When I open my eyes, it will have been a bad dream, it will be her coming down the aisle.. not Shatter-shield.

But when he opened his eyes, it took everything not to cry out in sorrow. For coming down the aisle was not the brave, beautiful woman which had stolen his heart, but a girl who was loved by all, but not him.

She looked nice, but that was all. Not beautiful, or pretty, just nice. Her black hair was curled and hung to below her shoulders, her dress was white as snow and was straight, no fancy puffed out skirt but it did have a long train. Since the weather was so cold in Eastmarch, her dress was covered in fur, most likely white bear and fox. Only the finest for the bride of a king.

A veil hung over her face and little flakes of snow caught in it. Ulfric took a deep breath and tried to focus on his wife to be. He imagined her looking excited, the prospect of marrying a king must be so overwhelming. It must be so nice for her.

As soon as she reached the top of the aisle, the band stopped on a high note.

The Priest cleared his throat and looked to the audience, "Welcome, Lords, Ladies and royalty all, to the marriage of his Majesty, High King Ulfric Stormcloak, to Lady Nilsine Shatter-Shield... who giveths this lady's hand in marriage?"

"I do." Her father replies in his nasally, smug voice. The Priest, however, beams at him.

"Wonderful." Nilsine's father kisses her knuckles before placing her hand in Ulfrics grasp and went to sit beside his beaming wife. What idiots.

Her hand was as cold as ice in his palm and he half wanted to ask her if she wanted a pair of gloves. The priest raised both hands above their heads and began the ceremony.

"It was Mara who first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another and it is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone... is no life at all."

The priest looks between the king and future queen and then addresses the crowd, "We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship.. May they journey together in this life and the next-"

Ulfric's mind began to wander as he grew more bored, 'Why can't this Talos forsaken man hurry up!' he said to himself.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something jump across a roof top from the grey quarter to the wall of the Palace. His gaze fixed unto the figure which had jolted across the pillars on the wall which towered above the ceremony.

The only people allowed at the ceremony were nobility and servants, so of course this had to be someone trying to sneak in on the wedding, but for some reason, Ulfric didn't call the guard. This person moved so gracefully, as if they moved across dangerous heights so frequently that this was as easy as a stroll in the square.

"...Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?" Ulfric's gaze turned to the priest, but he was looking at Nilsine.

"I do." She said loudly and clearly. The king couldn't help himself but lift his gaze once again to the figure, who was now perched on the wall, staring down at him. As it was an overcast day, he couldn't see their face, but he did see a black cloak swirling in the wind. He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to get a better look.

"... Your majesty?" Ulfric's gaze snapped down the priest again, who looked back on him nervously.

"What?" He replied in an annoyed tone. He felt Nilsine stiffen beside him and shot her a confused look.

"D-do you agree to be bound together... in l-love, now and forever?" The priest said weakly. Ulfric paused, which he never did. His head was screaming 'yes', but his heart yelled back 'no' just as loudly. He swallowed. He had to do this. What he had with the dragonborn was long over and could never be had again.

"Yes, I do." He boomed. He instantly felt Nilsine relax beside him and the Priest broke out into a relieved smile.

"Then I give you these Rings of Matrimony, blessed by Mara's divine grace. I now pronounce you, Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride."

Applause broke out. Ulfric turned to Nilsine and pulled the veil back. She was smiling up at him, a tender look in her brown eyes, one which he didn't return. He leant in a gave her a peck on the lips. Nothing more. He could hear her mother crying in the background.

When he pulled back and took her hand, ready to led his new wife and queen into the palace, he glanced back up at the wall and his eyes widened.

The figure was gone.

~000~

The wedding party was held in the throne room of the Palace of the Kings. A great feast was prepared in honour of the couple, but before any of it could be eaten, there was the greeting of the guests to attend to. Ulfric didn't mind this much, it gave him a chance to get away from his wife.

He almost shuddered at the thought of the word, but quickly collected himself in time to greet his next guest.

It was well after midnight before Ulfric could find an excuse to retreat to his chambers for some privacy, if it was only for a minute or so.

He stomped down the hall and once in his chambers, he slammed the door closed with a brute force.

Then he just stood. For what seemed like forever he stood in his room, with his gaze fixed on the floor.

Eventually he walked slowly over to his massive bed and stopped in front of it. The thought of having to share it with Nilsine that night made his hands ball into fists.

It was not that he didn't find her attractive. It wasn't even the fact he disliked her, because he didn't. It was just that.. he just couldn't bring himself to care for her.

Ulfric glanced at the large mirror which still stood proud and tall on the far wall. He approached it slowly, as if it would come to life and attack him. He stood in front of it, just gazing at his reflection. He closed his eyes tightly.

"...You can barely recognise yourself, can you?"

The king spun at the voice, ready to grab the blade on the top of the fireplace next to him. He gasped at what he saw.

The figure from the ceremony sat nonchalantly on a beam in the skylight above his head, swinging their leg back and forth. The dark hood still covered their face, casting shadows down to their jaw.

Ulfric made no move towards them, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"You were at the ceremony." He stated, not as a question.

The person nodded, "I was."

The voice was undeniably feminine.. almost sweet, but at this moment sounded as cold as an iceberg.

"Can you come down?" He asks cautiously. The figure makes no move and the king could not help but sigh, "I would like to speak face to face."

There is a moment of hesitation before they swing their other leg over the beam and fall to the ground, landing gracefully on all fours. They immediately straighten up and cross around the huge bed, face still turned towards his, putting distance between themselves and the high king. The said king watched this mysterious person for a moment before taking a tentative step forward.

"You could have fallen to your death," He said, referring to the castle wall, "It is not wise to climb up so high.. if it isn't the wind that takes you, it will be ice.. especially on an overcast day." The king comments, starting to circle around the bed to be nearer to the intruder.

The woman merely shrugs, "I would not have fallen, I have been higher.. and if I had, I'd just make sure to land on that pretty little wife of yours."

He couldn't help but snort at the mischievousness in her voice, "One would think you didn't like the queen."

"I don't." The woman replied immediately, her voice returning to its previous iciness. He stopped a short distance from her. She was short, she would have just about reached his shoulders.

"..Are you going to remove your cloak?" The king asked, "..Persephone."

The figure didn't react to the kings words, in fact, she'd been expecting them. The king was a smart man. She untied the strings and let the cloak fall to the floor.

Ulfric gazed upon her as if a man seeing sunlight after a long time in the dark. She was much the same since she had left five months ago. Her hair; the colour of auburn leaves, fell to above her shoulders, never one to tie it back. Her skin was still light brown in complexion, though maybe a hint darker; maybe she had gotten sun were she had gone. Her green warpaint decorated her eyes, but didn't cover the obvious pink scar than ran from below her left eye to the latter half of her cheek. And of course, the features that made her so different to him, her narrow, red eyes and pointed ears; completely Elven.

She was wearing black armour with many buckles, he recognised it immediately.

"You joined the thieves guild in Riften, Persephone?" He asked politely, as if he were asking her what her favourite colour was. Which he had once... It was green.

"I did, _Your Majesty,_ and I worked my way to the top.. became their leader.. Sound familiar?" She replied, her tone mocking.

He sighed, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I thought you were better than that..."

"Well, you thought a lot of things, didn't you?" She bristled, "You know nothing about me, not anymore."

"Why.. why are you here?" Ulfric asked tiredly, sluggishly climbing the three small steps, and then sitting upon his bed, "You left without even saying goodbye last time. Why did you return?"

She swallowed and for a second he thought he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced with a mask of cockiness he knew better than he should have.

"I came to see you make the biggest mistake of your life."

Ulfric snorted at her brassiness. "You become more and more subtle as time passes."

Now it is her turn to scoff, "You are one to talk. You were very subtle when you humiliated me, rejected me and cast me aside."

"I never meant-"

"Of course." She snaps, "You never mean anything, that pathetic 'I do' this afternoon was only the latest. You can't help but lie Ulfric, it's in a Nord's blood to be a cheat and a coward, you lied to me everytime we were together-"

Suddenly, her back has pressed against a nearby wall and a furious king glared down at her, hands pressed against the wall on either side of her face. She tried not to shy away.

" Listen to me, Elf! You can insult me, Gods knows, I deserve it, but you will NOT insult my race!"

"Why should I listen to you." She spat back, "All you do is insult mine. So I am not human, it was no reason to cast me aside like a common whore!"

"Shut up.." Ulfric growled and stepped away, "I don't have time for these petty arguments, I have to get back to my wedding celebrations." He started to turn his back.

"Don't you** dare** turn your back on me, human!" He paused in shock and turned to look at her. If possible, her eyes were even more red than usual and her teeth gritted together in fury.

"What did you say..?" Ulfric snarled, his eyes blazing.

"You heard. I have ridden for three days straight to get here, and I will not have you turn your back on me."

"How dare you.. I am King..!"

"I don't give a shit, your highness, now shut up and listen." Persephone growled.

She paced up to him until they couldn't have been five inches apart. She could see his left eye twitch in fury and a vein popping out in his forehead.

"I helped you gain this throne." She murmured and he had to strain his ears to hear her, "I gave up any sort of respect from my Elven cousins in Skyrim, just to make you happy. I gave up my Imperial friends, just to make you happy... and this is how you repay me."

She takes a deep breath, "Eight months ago, when I told you I had feelings for you, I meant it.. but when you said the same, I don't think you ever did."

Ulfric starts to shake his head, "No, I do not lie, I did-"

"Then why are you wearing that ring?" Persephone cuts him off calmly. He glances at the ring, and then up at her a little guiltily.

"I thought so." She mumbled. She closes her eyes and Ulfric almost flinches at the pain in her voice.

"You have no idea how much that first night we made love meant to me. I felt special.. loved even. I thought to myself, 'This is a man, who would never, ever, hurt me.' But you did."

He exhales quietly, " You must believe me, love..I never meant to hurt you.."

Her soft sniffles die away, and she continues as if he had never spoken, "When I told you I loved you, I meant it, every syllable. I'd never been in love before, but I knew you were it, the one for me... but that's when you started to get afraid." Her voice becomes more monotone and cold.

"Your throne was everything to you. I was but merely an obstacle in your way. So.. after less than three months, you said you couldn't continue, because you felt you were betraying your people by bedding an elf, people who had fought so long to rid the elves of this kingdom -"

Her voice cracked slightly, "I felt used Ulfric, like I didn't matter in the equation, it was you, and the people, but never me. Why should you care about me anyway? I don't matter. I'm only a stupid elf, a tree hugging Bosmer."

"Persephone.." Ulfric started and tried to place his hand on her cheek, but she pulled back and glared at him with glowing hatred in her eyes.

"Don't. touch. me." She spat out bitterly, "You won't ever touch me again. I was a fool to believe you loved me. I should have seen it from the start. I was nothing more to you than the tramp who warmed your bed for a few months."

"Just stop.." Ulfric growled. But she didn't listen.

Instead, her face twisted into a cruel smirk, "How would your **wife** react if she knew? The high king, her **husband**.. had fooled around with a Bosmer, not a Nord woman, or even a human. Who would have guessed you were such a huge hypocrite and better still.. had a fetish for Mer?"

"Shut up!" He roared, finally fed up with her rant. He grabbed a hold off her wrists and shook her, "Listen well, you bloody stupid woman! You would have been butchered if they had found out about us! Dragonborn or no!"

She snorts rudely at his words as if they were amusing to her, "Oh please. Do you even believe that? I can handle myself Ulfric. For Divines' sake, I kill bloody dragons.. daily! I can handle some humans."

"**Some**?" He snarls, angered by her apparent lack of interest in her own safety, "I have no doubt you can handle **some** humans, but can you handle an army? Or a Talo's damned Kingdom? And don't dare brush me aside, I know these people better than you, I have fought with them, and they despise all Elves.. If news were to break that I had bedded an elf.. they would know it was you. They would find you Persephone.. They would.. torture you.." He winces at his own words, but quickly pulls himself together, "Then, they would hang you, or burn you.. or something awful that I cannot bear to think of... I could not let that happen, I have a duty to Skyrim.. but I could not let the woman I had fallen for die for the simple reason of loving me.."

Persephone watched as this supposed unmovable king shakily confessed some of his darkest fears. The tender look in his eyes as he spoke so freely of having affection for her scared her more than any dragon or Daedra ever could. She wanted to believe him, Divines' knows she did. She wanted to hold this man, this symbol of rebellion and freedom, in her arms and comfort him... but that would be too easy. She lowered her head, not bearing to look him in the eye anymore.

"Why..?" She muttered, her voice as hard as steel. Ulfric was caught off guard by her question, having expected her to either hit him or, in his fantasies, kiss him; he was surprised and a tad nervous of her stillness.

"I do not understand." He murmurs. Her piercing glare jumps back to him then, her red eyes darkening like a thundering sky.

"You really don't.. do you?" She muses, "Fine, I guess I will have to spell it out to you."

She pulls her wrists from his grasp and saunters over towards the giant mirror. She gazes at her reflection for a moment. A strange emotion flashes on her face.. Regret possibly, but Ulfric has no time to ponder the odd behaviour of the love of his life before she rounded on him.

"Why me?" She demands, her voice echoing of the stone walls, "Of all the women you could have taken and 'fallen for'," She quotes in a mocking tone, "Why me?"

Ulfric gazes at her, his mind going blank. Why her?.. Why her indeed.

The king paced tiredly to stand at the edge of his huge bed and solemnly watched the Bosmer who stood so resiliently in front of him.

..By the God's, she was beautiful. Most Nordic men would rather cut out their own tongues than ever utter such words about an elf.. but it did not stop it from being true.

He adored this woman. What other answer could he give? She was the first woman that had ever caught his eye during battle. She was fearsome and brave. Though her weapon of choice was a bow, (a weapon he had openly scoffed at to her) he soon leant that even a 'piece of bark, a string and a stick' was just as deadly as any sword, mace or warhammer ever could be, in the right hands.

They used to say her shot could hit a target more than a few miles away.. and he believed it.

She was the first to ever show him that glory did not come only from the battlefield, but also from aiding the needy and vulnerable of his lands. Her devotion to his own people and her elven cousins amazed him, even after joining the stormcloaks; she was kind and caring, and her hands, hands that could so easily kill a man, nurtured the sick and calmed the frightened members of the Gray Quarter. Her love of not only the populace of Skyrim, but the land itself fascinated him. Normally, a Nord would scoff and laugh at the airy, fairy, 'The trees are alive and have a soul' nonsense that the Wood elves often came out with.. but when he was around her, he actually started to believe it.

When they'd walk around together, outside the city walls, she would tell him the name of each tree, how old it was and every other little detail of the earth possible. The passion in her voice captivated him; it reminded him of himself when addressing his Generals in the War room. She loved nature.. she would often laugh at how stereotypical she sounded, but he'd always assure her otherwise.

She had been the first.. to show him that passion did not just exist through lust.. but in a sense, passion was much more.. passionate.. when experienced with someone you respected.. cared for..loved.

Persephone gazed at the Nord King. He was staring into the distance, his mind far away from that place and time.

She loved that about him.

She loved how he was not just a fighter, but a thinker. He was clever man and could be a very caring man, but that didn't always show. It was a damn shame.

Today being a huge example.

She barely noticed he was watching her until she had unintentionally looked back up at him to see it he was staring, almost unseeing, into her face.

"Well?" She demanded, her arms folding across her chest and standing her ground. She may be in his Palace, but Persephone was never one to just lay down and take crap from anyone.

"Repeat the question." Was all he said. That she did not expect, and it made her want to scream and stamp her feet in bad temper. What the hell is he playing at?!

"Are you playing stupid now Ulfric, or are you just trying to piss me off." She growled, trying to keep her composure.

Ulfric merely shrugged, causing his former lover to grit her teeth in frustration. He was always one to tease.. but surely even he understood that this was neither the time, nor the place.

"Fine. I'll play along." She finally huffed after a pause. She took a deep breath and looked straight into his icy eyes; Red meeting Blue.

"Why me?" She said, surprising herself when her voice comes out much more calmly and a lot more soft than she felt, but continued none the less, "Of all the women in this kingdom.. no.. this world.. of all the races, mainly human, that you could have picked from; of all the powerful, royal.. beautiful, young women you could have... fallen in love with; Why did you choose me?"

Ulfric closed his eyes for a moment before slowly panning his gaze back to meet hers. Red met Blue once more, and time seemed to stop.

"You are a Goddess among women, my darling. How could I not love you?" Was all he said.

She didn't know what to say. No cutting remark or sarcastic comment, not even the energy to get angry came to her. All the Bosmer could do was stand and stare at the King.

Ulfric knew if he didn't take this chance now, he'd regret it. He took a few steps closer to her.

"When you left.. It was only then that I realised just how.. important.. you were to me. I confess, my love, that I am a selfish and cruel man. I always have been, and I probably always will be. It is true that I had never considered what my.. affections were doing to you, emotionally. And.. it is also true that I broke our affair off at the fear of an uprising of my people.."

He was so close to her now he could so easily reach out and touch her, but he resisted, "..But never, ever, doubt whether I loved you or not. You are the centre of my heart. And there you shall remain, always."

He now let his fingers ghost up her arm, and rest on the back on her neck, cupping it, letting his thumb slide along her jaw-line.

"It matters not to me, whether you are human or elven, not anymore," The King releases a great rumbling sigh, "I guess, I truly am a hypocrite.. aren't I?"

Persephone was frozen in place. Both her heart and her head were screaming at her. Her head told her to brush him off; to step away and leave him to suffer the same heart-ache he had put her through. That was the smart thing to do... but..

She looked up into his eyes again, and saw an overwhelming amount of love in them, they were the chink in his armour, his vulnerable spot. And unfortunately, far more often than not, her undoing. When he had touched her so casually, it made her heart skip a beat. The way his fingers gently held her and the soft, hypnotic stroke of his thumb was peaceful and comforting...

...The way you would stroke a possession.

Her eyes widened at the thought, and she started to panic when he began to slowly lean in towards her, lips parted and eyes slitted.

Persephone was truly, madly and deeply in love with Ulfric, but she would never be his trophy.

She wriggled and fought out of his grasp. He let go fairly easily, having not expected her to fight him. In a blink of an eye she was at the other end of the room, chest heaving.

"LIES!" She snarled, her eyes mad, "I will not be your prize Ulfric, you cannot tell this to me, and expect me to be ok with it. Because I'm not. If you truly cared for me, you would have fought for me, not lay down like a dog and obey your own subjects! And how dare you think you can kiss me.. You married another woman not 5 hours ago! I am not ok with being second best!"

Ulfric stared at her, wide eyed, "Love, come on, be rational.."

"**Do. Not. Call. Me. Love."** She hissed, "You have no right, not anymore. I will not give into you.. you wanted our relationship to end, fine. I'll make it even easier for you. I'm leaving Skyrim. That's why I truly came here. I came to say goodbye, because I hate leaving unfinished business."

He started to make his way over to her in a split second, " What?! Where would you go? Surely not to Valenwood? You told me about the fate of your village, about how it was burned by the Thalmor.. You have nothing left there.. Why..?"

"Yes, to Valenwood. I have some friends in the capital. I will build something for myself there." She replied calmly, looking at anything other than him, "We are not lovers anymore, but I will not stay, just to watch you in the arms of another woman. It may be childish.. but hey!" She threw her arms into the air, "I learnt a lot more than just fighting techniques from you, _darling."_

He growled loudly, not caring how animalistic he sounded, "You will not take a step across that border!"

She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him, "Oh yeah? Who's going to try and stop me?"

All at once his arms were pinned around her waist, and she was hoisted to his eye level, "Me."

Then his lips crashed down onto hers. Her immediate response was to push on his shoulders, and try to escape his arms. No matter how hard she fought AND squirmed, the king only held on tighter.

And as if a light switch had been flicked off, the fight left her. She just stood and let him kiss her passionately. She never moved a muscle. A minute later he pulled away and looked her in the eyes, his breath coming out in light pants.

"Are you finished?" She asked in a robotic voice. The king seemed to freeze for only a second before responding.

"No."

He kissed her again and again and again. Never giving up. Persephone was finding his desperate kisses far too overwhelming. After the fourth kiss, she was starting to feel the sting of tears behind her eyelids every time she blinked.

This wasn't the actions of a strong and noble man. This was the actions of a scared and lonely man. One who was trying to hold onto something so desperately that he had to stoop so low to do that.

She felt her resolve fading. All the arguments, the fighting, the shouting, the tears, the heartache and all the hatred that came with this man just seemed to vanish out of her head in the blink of an eye.

Her arms acted of their own accord when they came up to encircle his neck (or so she told herself). Her lips tentatively began to move against his.

She had missed this.

He had missed this.

They had both missed each other.

Suddenly, nothing in the world mattered; he wasn't a king, and she wasn't the dragonborn. He wasn't married, and she wasn't bitter. He wasn't a Nord and She wasn't an Elf.

For a moment, they were just themselves. For a moment, they could just love each other. For a moment, they could kid themselves.

When they finally pulled apart for air, they didn't let go of each other entirely, his hands still cupped her face and she still had her fingers threaded through his hair.

"I can't let you leave Skyrim, " He whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "I can't protect you in Valenwood. Stay.. even if you want to stay in that God's forsaken sewer in Riften.. just stay close."

She closed her eyes then. Her thoughts were swirling and churning and if she had kept them open any longer he would have seen the chaos within and called her out on it.

"Please.. don't ask that of me.." She murmurs eventually, "I owe you nothing Ulfric, but by the Gods', I know I wouldn't be able to leave if you truly wanted me to stay. I am weak willed when I am around you, and I hate that. Just let me go. Let me go Ulfric. Please."

A mixture of both pain and relief swelled in her heart when she felt him shake his head.

"No... no.. I can't let you go.. not again."

"But.." She argued, "..We cannot have what we had before.. you are a married man.."

He chuckled slightly under his breath, "Better men before me have done much the same as we are doing now."

Persephone felt herself exhale brokenly, "So.. you couldn't leave your wife.."

This time, Ulfric really did release her. He crossed slowly to one of the windows and stared out of it into the black sky, lit up by the green and purple lunar lights dancing across it.

"No, my love.." He answered, his back still to her, "I cannot.. my people adore her.. and we need to show stability.. and-"

"You need to show you are setting up for the future," She echoed him, her voice soft and pained, "You need to show you are trying for an.. heir."

He doesn't say anything, but merely nods. Persephone felt her carefully put back together heart breaking again. She had gotten too close. Her next words were as pathetic as she felt, but she didn't care.

"Let me.. I could give you all that and more...!"

"A bastard would suffer more grief than any legitimate heir." Ulfric cuts in, still not turning to face her, ".. And if they knew you were the mother, well, the child wouldn't stand a chance.."

Persephone turns away, no longer able to stare at his broad back. He spoke the truth. Now she felt even more pathetic than before. After a moment, she turned back to the window, and couldn't contain her gasp of shock when she saw he had moved. Ulfric stood directly in front of her, his eyes burning with determination.

His hands boldly reached out and cupped her face.

"Lay with me." He commanded, his voice holding an odd power in it, "Lay with me here and now. One more time." He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, "Let me show you how much I still care for you."

She started to shake her head, "No.. Ulfric... No.. I can't.." Her hands came up to grip his.

"You can't do this either, you are married! Don't your wedding vows mean anything to you?"

"Of course they do.. but you mean more." He replied.

She should have turned from him. She should have placed her cloak on her shoulders and left him... but of course, she didn't.

She kissed him. She blocked all thoughts of Ulfric's wedding and his wife from her brain, while he did the very same.

He left her only once, and that was to bolt the door closed. She was back in his arms faster than lighting.

Their clothing fell to the floor in heaps. Their bodies fell onto the soft mattress and lay in an entangled mess.

It was only a matter of time before he entered her, and both were pulled into bliss.

Their cries of pleasure were muffled by each other's lips. Their hands gripping onto each other desperately.

When she reached her peak, he wasn't far behind. They rode out their euphoria together. After all was over, they lay together; wrapped up in each other's embrace. Her head rested upon his muscular chest while his hand stroked her arm and his cheek rested upon her hair.

"They will be wondering where you have gone, Ulfric." She said after an age of apprehensive silence.

The King didn't reply, but simply angled his face further into her hair. Persephone understood his reluctance to speak, for she felt the same. She didn't want to break this dream-like state either.

But this is what this all was. A fantasy. And, in the end, all dreams and fantasies must come to an end.

She pulled herself from his arms before he could sense her purpose and started to collect her clothing.

"What are you doing?" She heard him ask, and a rustle of the bed signalled he was making his way over to her.

"Getting dressed." She replied, as she pulled her breastband on, "I have to leave."

Suddenly his arms were wrapped around her waist.

"No.. just a little longer.." Was his muffled response, his head moving in to kiss the back of her neck.

"No.." She replies weakly, momentarily stalled by his affections, "..If they catch us.. Ulfric.. stop."

And that he did, but he didn't let go. Instead he turned her around to face him and cupped her heart shaped face in his wide palm.

"I don't want to let you go.." He whispered his nose resting upon hers, "I am not a fool.. I know I will never see you on good terms again. I won't be able to hold you ever again. I won't be able to.. love you.."

"Please don't finish.." She breathed, "It feels like a knife to the heart hearing these things.. I don't want to hear you in so much pain.."

His thumb slid across her cheek bone, catching a stray tear that somehow managed to slip past her defences.

"I love you." He murmured before leaning in to kiss her. She met him half way.

"And I love you.. you big, stupid, infuriating... wonderful man." She said with shaky breath after they'd pulled away to breathe.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and he finally let her go. He watched as she struggled to calmly pull every article of clothing unto her person. He could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. Judging the consequences.

Once she was clothed, she paused a moment and just stared ahead of her. Ulfric had managed to pull on his underwear and a thin cotton shirt; he looked like he was half way ready to go out training, not about to return to his wedding party.

She was slightly thankful for that.

"Where will you go now?" She heard his voice resonate in the room. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I don't know. Not to the thieves guild, if that is what you mean."

"..Will you stay in Skyrim..?"

She turned to face him, "Yes."

She saw him visibly deflate in relief. She hated him for it, as well as appreciated his concern.

She watched him a moment before speaking, "And what will you do?" She wasn't surprised to see the startled confusion in his eyes.

"What an odd question.. Rule.. if the Gods allow it."

She turned from him once more and closed her eyes shut, "And become a parent as well?"

"..Yes." The sadness in his voice made the sting of tears all the more prominent. She realised now, just how hard this must be for him. Having a child with someone you had no love for must be torture, especially when you know the person you would actually want to bear your heirs, never could.

"..I'm sorry." She said in a cracked voice.

"It isn't your fault, love."

She crossed her arms as if holding herself together, "..If I had been better.. If I had been human.. or even better, a Nord, than you could be happy... I could be happy.. We.. I.. you.."

The tears were by now streaming down her face in earnest. It was only worsened when she felt him hold her in his embrace. She cried into his chest, dampening the cotton tunic.

"I love you!" She cried, "I love you so much it scares me! I..I don't want to live without you by my side.. It's pathetic, b-but its true! The thought of.. of HER in your bed.. holding you, makes me so bitter and angry."

The tears had begun to slow until they had been replaced by hiccups and gasps.

"Please forgive me, darling." Ulfric whispered into her hair, "I shouldn't have confessed to you all those months ago, I should never have asked you into my bed either... but I couldn't resist. If I had, you wouldn't be in so much agony. I hate the fact that I am more than responsible for it."

"I guess we both should have done or not done stuff a few months ago." Persephone muttered into his shirt. She felt the rumble of a laugh in his chest, and couldn't help but give a small smile.

"Probably, love, probably."

They held each other for an age, just savouring their final moments in each others arms. Until, finally, she pulled away. She rested her small, delicate hands on his broad chest.

"Be a good King, Ulfric." She said, her red eyes coming up to meet his, "This kingdom more than deserves it for what it's been through."

"I know that well." He sighed. His larger hand cupped one of hers, and held it there; right over his heart.

"This." He said, "Will always be yours. It beats, because I know your own does. In perfect time." He lifted his other palm and rested it over her own heart.

"In perfect time." He repeated, smiling softly and icy eyes dancing.

She swallowed as she stared into them, becoming lost once more, but this time, willingly.

"Kiss me, one more time." She breathed. His smile only widened.

"That's one order, a king wouldn't mind following."

She giggled when he bent down and once more his lips were upon hers. Sweet and passionate. That was simple way to describe it, but for the philosophical, it had so many layers to it. Lust, passion, love, happiness, sadness, hate, longing, apprehension, dread and fear.

She clung to him desperately, knowing soon, all too soon, she would leave him. And this time, for good.

He clung on just as desperately, knowing soon, all too soon, she would run away into the night, and he didn't truly know if he'd hear from her again.

Finally, the kiss cooled down. It changed from completely overbearing, to chaste and barely there.

Their lips both pulled away slowly, their eyes fixed upon each other.

"Good bye, my love." She whispered, "Have a happy life."

With that, she moved to the closest window and threw it open. The evening wind swirled around her as she tied her cloak to her shoulders.

"May Talos guide you, do not let him take you to Sovengarde too early.. I will have no choice but to follow you." Was his reply.

She smiled to herself, but launching herself out the window and grabbing onto a ledge. With movements filled with grace, she danced and jumped her way to a roof on the gray quarter.

When she landed, she allowed herself to look back only once. He was still there, watching her.

"Lingrah lahney jun." She whispered, the Dragon tongue slipping from her lips like poetry. A language she knew, only he could understand. No matter how far apart they were, she knew they'd be able to hear each other.

She turned and sprinted away, leaping from the roof and landing on all fours before breaking into a run, slipping through the huge gates without anyone seeing, it helped the guards were all in the Candled Hearth, drinking in celebration.

And as she untied the reins of her horse from a beam at the stables she heard it, coming on the wind.

His reply.

"...Ol lingrah ol hin zahreik dron, ful fen ungol."

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Hey everbody! This is my first skyrim fanfic so go easy on me!

Dragon tongue translation:

Lingrah lahney jun- long live the king

Ol lingrah ol hin zahreik dron, ful fen ungol- As long as your heart beats, so will mine.

Thanks again for reading! Review and have a great day.


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